Events come and events go. The U.K. fan-scene has
witnessed the emergence and subsequent disappearance of various film
weekends over recent years, with perhaps only Edinburghs annual
Dead By Dawn looking likely to stay the course. Theres
one festival, however, which shows a stubborn resilience, and which
despite facing problem after problem, just keeps on coming back with
a resolve and spirit that even Dracula, the Daleks, and Ming The Merciless
might envy.

The Festival Of Fantastic Films entered its 14th
year in 2003 - our intrepid band of travellers through outer and inner
space found themselves depleted, through the loss of the irreplaceable
Harry Nadler, yet still managed to concoct a weekend of magic, metamorphosis,
and mystery, for the entertainment and delight of those of us along
for the ride. Why Tony Edwards and Gil Lane-Young havent received
greater recognition for their heroic efforts, who can say? Film fans
at heart, but with the organisational skills and sheer drive that
simply keeps them determined to stage this marvel every August.

Arriving at the festival hotel each year is a
thrilling experience - grown men and women, some in their thirties,
forties, fifties, or even the elders of the tribe, discovering once
more that childlike rush of anticipation fulfilled, hauling our luggage
through the revolving doors which offer tantalising wonders within,
meeting fellow aficionados for the first time since last time, eagerly
awaiting the revelations of the next three days. As ever, then, proceedings
get off to a fine start, with plenty of good food, flowing ale, and
conversation bubbling with knowledgeable enthusiasm. There are even
early screenings of the classic ROCKETSHIP XM - one of the very first
titles I viewed, and loved, at the inaugural 1990 festival - and a
special Tribute To The Monsters, for those who wish to
get a head start on the visual portion of the programme.

Festival regulars invariably expect a spanner or
two in the works, and sure enough, the stellar guest list is soon revealed
to have become somewhat truncated. Early publicity has promised the
appearance of Christopher Eccleston, local-boy-made-good, and having
boosted his fantasy credentials with an incredible performance as the
new Son of God in ITVs speculative drama THE SECOND
COMING. Sadly, ironically, it is the demands of our favourite genre
that keeps Chris from us, as word arrives that his labours on the sixth
and final STAR WARS instalment have taken precedence. Likewise, cult
director Alex Cox fails to show, again citing other demands on his time
as the reason; and husband-and-wife Harry Greene and Marjie Lawrence
cry off at the last minute too. For Tony, Gil, and team, this is all
in a days work - hastily putting a positive spin on matters, they
inform attendees at the festivals official opening ceremony that
we will still get to see legendary British writer/director/actor Michael
Armstrong (a presence Im particularly pleased about, having been
instrumental in the early stages of arranging Mr. Armstrongs attendance
here) - and that the menacing, brooding figure of David LAST HOUSE ON
THE LEFT Hess is lurking about the building too. As it turns out, Mr.
Hess has been in the bar for some considerable time, getting on like
a house on fire with one Ramsey Campbell and an enormous quantity of
alcohol

Further snafus result in a delayed start to the
screening of MIRACLE MILE, thrown in as a filler adjustment to the
programme - having given this one a five-star review myself back in
the early 1990s, I know this terrifying, panic-stricken nuclear thriller
is well worth the wait, though. E.R.s Anthony Edwards (no relation!)
and feisty Mare Winningham battle their way through the early hours
of a decidedly untypical L.A. morning, as the population awaken to
the news that the city may - or, heres the twist, may not -
be under attack from Soviet weaponry. In one of his final roles, John
Agar proves precisely why most of us attending the festival hold him
and his contemporaries in such high regard, and unlike so many films
of its type, MIRACLE MILE retains a truth and dignity right to the
end. The closing dialogue passage, concerning diamonds
and their gradual formation, is the most beautiful reflection upon
humanitys enduring future since Grant Williams enlightenment
at the close (?) of THE INCREDIBLE SHRINKING MAN.

For me, the remainder of the evening was to be
spent catching up with friends old and new over a few drinks - as
usual, though, the alternatives on offer were most enticing, with
Clint Eastwoods grand, elegiac SPACE COWBOYS on the main screen,
Gerald Price presenting some classic blasts from the past (ISLAND
OF LOST SOULS, THE STRANGE DOOR, BLUEBEARD and SPOOKS RUN WILD), and
various amateur/independent shorts and features on show for the more
adventurous night owls. In the bar area, the major topic of conversation
was would the Festival survive? - Gil having hinted in
his opening address that this 14th year might be the last. Debate
continued into the early hours, general opinion seeming to be that
although wed all be heartbroken if things came to an end, given
the pressures of putting the event on coupled with the disappointments,
cancellations, no-shows and so on, wed all understand if Tony
and Gil elected to call a halt.

Tomorrow is another day, as they say, and any
minor niggles were forgotten as everyone sat down to a hearty breakfast
and more movie chat. Gerald Price and the splendid Adrian James hosted
a rare screening of THE WHITE GORILLA for a packed audience of great
ape fanatics, and the programme progressed with Ivan Zuccons
latest, THE SHUNNED HOUSE. Championed by M.J. Simpson during the past
couple of years, Ivan is almost Italys answer to Stuart Gordon
in that his movies are steeped in Lovecraftiana, and this newest offering
had all the creepy atmosphere and weirdness of an early-80s Lucio
Fulci flick, though without the copious blood-letting of Signor Fulcis
signature works! The films scriptwriter, Enrico Saletti, was
a most welcome and amiable guest, keen to discuss his work at length
both at the screening and talking to punters in the bar afterwards.

Another returning visitor was Julian Richards,
whose WICKER MAN imitation, DARKLANDS, had featured at the 1997 Festival.
The lack of originality present in his debut feature, coupled with
the rather uninspiring title of his latest work THE LAST HORROR MOVIE,
didnt exactly hold a great deal of promise - which just shows
how wrong you can be on occasion. For THE LAST HORROR MOVIE turned
out to be the hit of the weekend, the sort of film which might genuinely
kick-start a British horror revival. Truly the home-grown answer to
U.S. social terrors ranging from HENRY to AMERICAN PSYCHO, LAST HORROR
MOVIE almost achieves the impossible in very nearly living up to its
title - a friend who accompanied me to the screening commented halfway
through that he would never need to sit through another serial
killer movie again after witnessing this one. With Kevin Howarth
giving the finest, most charismatic performance Ive seen in
a British horror picture for many years, Richards direction
showing he has come on in leaps and bounds (theres a scene featuring
the killer confronting a schoolboy which left the audience reeling),
and a script which cleverly draws the unsuspecting viewer right into
the heart of the action, this is a major step forward for the genre
and I hope it achieves the success it undoubtedly merits when it goes
on general release in the spring of 2004.

How to follow a new masterpiece? Well, with David
Hess present, an airing for LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT was as apt a way
as any, I suppose. Shown in its excellent DVD version, Id never
seen LAST HOUSE look so good before - and one could almost say the
same about the films star, as Mr. Hess seems to have barely
aged in the intervening decades. If the overall atmosphere of the
festival had felt a little deflated, Davids attendance was the
perfect tonic - he had a smile and a friendly word for everyone, while
playing up to his psychotic Krug persona on request, and
proved to be one of the most accessible and approachable guests in
the whole history of the event. Earlier in the day, hed even
managed to disrupt Ramsey Campbells infamous Auction, interrupting
Ramseys patter and making outrageously low bids for items on
the verge of being sold! His interview, with Gil presiding, was one
of the most popular highlights of the entire bash, and he signed autographs
and chatted in the hotel bar for hours afterwards.

Ramsey has been espousing the virtues of Hayao
Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli for the past couple of years, and its
been pleasing to see the rest of the world catching up - the festival
screened MY NEIGHBOUR TOTORO, the studios unsurpassable peak,
late on Saturday and followed up with KIKIS DELIVERY SERVICE
first thing on Sunday. KIKI must be recent cinemas deftest and
most wondrous tale of teenage hocus-pocus, and is essential viewing
for anyone over-familiar with J.K. Rowlings Harry Potter
series.

Sunday afternoon was the perfect slot for a couple
of hours settling back to enjoy the wry musings of Michael Armstrong,
every bit as flamboyant a guest as we could have hoped, larger than
life and twice as vocal! M.J. Simpson told me afterwards that this
had been the easiest interview hed ever hosted, and that he
had to keep interjecting the odd word or comment at intervals just
to remind everyone that there were two people on stage! Armstrong
was most entertaining, discussing his early amateur fantasy films
made in the late 1950s (NIGHTMARE, THE GAY GHOST) and his work in
Germany on MARK OF THE DEVIL, screened just prior to this guest spot.
He was on top form when discussing his difficult dealings with the
legendary Louis Deke Hayward, AIPs man in London
- what a shame Deke passed away a year or two ago, hed have
made a tremendous festival guest in his own right, and one regrets
that the opportunity to see him and old enemy Armstrong sparring has
now passed!

The screenings wrapped up with a fascinating double
bill featuring R.K.O.s rarely-seen waxworks thriller SECRETS
OF THE FRENCH POLICE and Albert Bands haunting drama FACE OF
FIRE; a chance to view the magnificent Mario Bava anthology BLACK
SABBATH; and Jerry Warrens outrageous cheapie FRANKENSTEIN ISLAND,
a treat for fans of those films which feature unrelated John Carradine
footage filmed several years earlier being cut into the plot! Made
for about $1.98, maybe, but it was certainly an entertaining and lively
time-passer!

And so to the closing ceremony. Thanks largely
to the sheer enthusiasm of David Hess, everyones spirits had
been elevated over the preceding 48 hours, and the air of gloom present
to a certain extent on the Friday had dissipated. However, we all
still wondered whether this was the end for Britains premier
fantasy/sf/horror movie gala. Both Hess and Michael Armstrong had
expressed a strong desire to return again in 2004, we fans all wanted
to come back, and Gil and Tony admitted they were willing. The surprise
clincher, a truly emotional climax to another great weekend, arrived
when Tonys daughter Kate unexpectedly invaded the stage and
delivered an impassioned cry to safeguard the future of the Festival,
revealing that private discussions behind the backs of the main organisers
had led to suggestions about venue changes, dividing of workloads,
and a possible move to somewhere just outside the traditional Manchester
city centre base. An appreciative audience, suddenly lifted by the
possibility of a near-certain return in 12 months time, rose
to their feet to give a ten-minute standing ovation to Kates
dad, a long-overdue tribute for Tonys years of input into this
unbeatable event and his decades of enthusiasm for fantastic cinema.

And even this moment of magic was rivalled a couple
of hours later, when David Hess was coerced into performing a frantic
singalong version of his own composition, the rocknroll
standard Speedy Gonzalez, at the Dead Dog Party
which wrapped the whole thing up for another year. As a pal of mine
remarked, you had to pinch yourself to believe what you were seeing!

If this is to be the final Festival of Fantastic
Films, it went out with a bang. Thanks to Tony and Gil; plus, gone
but never forgotten, the amazing Harry Nadler, and Dave Trengove;
and all involved in staging the festival since 1990. But lets
hope we can do it all again one more time.